Dirty Little Secret
by lizardmm
Summary: The Scoobies are scattered around the globe at various Slayer Training Academies, but Buffy remains in Cleveland to guard over the Hellmouth. How will the Chosen One react when she realizes she's not the only slayer on the Hellmouth...again. Post-Chosen


P.O.V. Buffy

I don't know how many nights I've been coming here. I can't remember how many hours I've stood dumbstruck in this very spot, eyes stinging from the cigarettes burning around me, ears thumping from the booming bass, probably killing my ear drums with every pulse.

I wish I had another excuse for being here. But I don't.

It really happened by chance. Or maybe it was just an accident. Fate? I don't know if that really matters anymore. Maybe it did at one time, but now I'm too far-gone to care.

Sorry. I'm getting a little ahead of myself.

You see, it all started a few months ago. I'd been patrolling, by myself, as usual. I do a lot of things alone now-a-days with Dawn away at school and the rest of the old gang kind of scattered around the world taking care of the numerous Slayer academies we've set up. They're in all sorts of glamorous parts of the world – one in England, Japan, and Rome, Brazil. I'm sure there are others, but I've stopped reading the Slayer Newsletter.

I got Cleveland.

I guess it's my own fault. I really wasn't too keen on retiring or teaching the next generation. What can I say? I was never very good at sharing; just ask Dawn. So when the opportunity to live away from a Hellmouth rolled in, I passed. I could have taken Giles' or Willow's offer to lead one of the Slayer schools, but I don't think that'll ever be an option for me. Call me old school, but slaying isn't just something I was called to do. Slaying _is_ me. I guess she was right about me.

I wasn't the only one who turned down a school. But that's the reason I'm stuck in this routine now. Sorry…ahead of myself again.

So yea, I was patrolling.

It had been a night, just like any other. I'd staked a few vamps, who by now know to fear the night. It had been a weird transition coming to Cleveland. I mean, in Sunnydale, I was like the Boogie Woman, you know? I had become the threat that demon parents used against their spawn to get them to eat up all their entrails so they'd grow up big and strong. But here in Cleveland, hell if anyone knew what a "Slayer" was. I'd come strolling into an alley, twirling a stake between my fingers, and these cocky Cleveland vamps barely looked up from their happy meal on feet. Oh, but they know who I am now.

After the usual uneventful slayage, I don't know what possessed me to go into that club. Normally after patrol, I just go back to my little one-bedroom apartment. The Council apparently had some mad cash in different accounts around the world. Willow was able to hack into some databases and make sure that none of us would have to work in fast food again. So I get a nice monthly stipend that allows me to keep this little place of my own without having to get a day-job.

It's not super fancy or anything, but it's comfortable enough. It almost feels like home. Except…sometimes the silence is so maddening. It was really nice when I first moved in, having had to share my house with far too many Potential Slayers for far too long. I enjoyed sleeping in, undisturbed. I relished taking long, hot showers without worrying about using up all the hot water. I adored going to the fridge to find all of my low-fat yogurts present and accounted for. But now that the newness of being on my own has worn off, I guess I just feel alone.

I'm not a leper or a hermit or anything. I mean…I _do_ have a boyfriend. Of course, he's clueless as to what I really do late at night and how I can afford to not have a 9 to 5 job like him. I think I passed it off as being an heiress or having won a really big legal settlement or something. Greg believed it all, and that was attractive at first – that blind belief in everything that I say – that naivety that the world is simple and that the monsters living in the closet or under the bed aren't real.

I guess neither of us considers it _that_ serious of a relationship or he'd start to get annoyed that I don't spend entire nights with him. I always manage to create some convincing excuse as to why I have to leave his bed. I know I'm using him, but at least it's some kind of human contact.

I try to talk to Dawn a few times on the phone every week – make sure she's not getting into too much trouble at school in England. Giles thought it would be a good growing experience for the both of us to live without the other for a bit. I wanted to tell him no, but when I saw the happiness in Dawn's eyes when we toured the school, I knew I had to push my selfishness aside and let her finally get to be a kid away from all the vampires and demons and Hell-beasts. I mean, I never got to enjoy my teenage years, but Dawn never even _had_ a childhood.

I contact the old gang when I can, but we all seem so wrapped up in our new lives. Willow and Kennedy are still together, which is oh-so-bizarre. Xander's finally gotten himself a Slayer, too. I guess the eye-patch is working for him.

Here in Cleveland there aren't too many opportunities to make new friends with my kind of work. All the people I know here are basically Greg's friends. They all have normal lives, normal jobs, and they don't ask too many questions about how I ended up in Cleveland. I've made it a priority not to let any of them get too close to me. I've learned over the years that anyone without super-powers usually just gets in the way or dies. It's gotten easier to just keep everything uncomplicated. I guess that's why I still try to convince myself that I want a non-superhero boyfriend too.

But when I went into that club that night, I think I was looking for complicated.

Four months previously…

The brunette wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror, struggling to keep her toothbrush and toothpaste from spilling out between her parted lips. "Always so fuckin' late," she mumbled, staring at the dark chocolate eyes that glared back at her in the reflection.

The young woman spit into the sink, rinsed her mouth, and let out a tired sigh. The days were getting shorter with night coming earlier now that summer was fading into fall. The average twenty-something-year-old might lament the lack of beach-going and dread the coming of the brisk winter season, but this young woman cared little about the seasons, especially now that she was back in a climate that actually _experienced _weather changes besides freak snow showers on Christmas Day.

Rather than worry about snow, she thought about the loss of daylight. With the sun setting earlier every day, it would become increasingly harder to hide from her calling instead of sinking into the anonymity of wage labor. She'd picked up a gig at a local club as the lead vocalist in the house band. It was decent money, but the untraditional hours were what made it so attractive.

She had gotten in the habit of arriving at the club in the early evening when the sun was still high in the sky to practice new songs with the band. And after each night's performance she'd unwind with the other band members, enjoying the beats of that night's DJ and a few mixed drinks before stumbling home just as the sun began creeping up from the horizon. With the changing of the seasons, however, she wasn't going to be able to avoid the night for too much longer.

With a heavy hand, the brunette applied her characteristically dark eye make-up and deep red lipstick. She kissed the bathroom mirror and smirked at the imprint left behind.

Buffy walked through the front doors of the club and absent-mindedly showed the bouncer her ID. She walked instinctively to the bar, although it was the first time she had been in the building. The blonde wasn't much of a drinker, especially not after turning into a Slayer cavewoman her first year of college, but she ordered a Jack and diet anyway, not really knowing why.

After paying for her drink and ignoring the appreciative stare of the almost-attractive bartender, she settled into a corner booth which offered just enough privacy from unwanted suitors but provided a full view of the bar's main stage. A number of leather and jean-clad men were busy setting up for the house band's nightly performance. They scrambled around checking wires, tapping on microphones, and tuning instruments while the Slayer slowly sipped her drink.

The club was surprisingly full for a Tuesday night. Most patrons looked college-aged, more than likely students at Cleveland State which was only a few blocks away from the crowded bar. The Slayer thought about her own brief college career at UC Sunnydale and momentarily contemplated attending a few classes at Cleveland's local university if only to keep herself busy during the day and perhaps make a few friends who weren't part of Greg's close circle. She silently promised herself that she'd call Giles later to ask about possible financing. Privately pleased with how the evening had turned out, she settled deeper into the vinyl seat of her corner booth and looked around the club with renewed interest.

The blonde glanced back toward the stage when she heard the band's drummer counting out the beat for the first song. A bass player and guitarist framed the drum kit and a solo microphone stand stood in the center of the stage, sans microphone. The shaggy-haired guitarist and buzzed-cut bass player jammed with the drummer for a few minutes while a crowd began to move closer to the stage, moving their bodies and dancing to the wordless tune.

When the trio finished their instrumental, the crowd clapped politely, but soon began a loud chant: "Hope! Hope! Hope! Hope!" Several members of the audience pumped their fists in the air while others jumped up and down, continuing to cry out the cryptic chant. "Hope! Hope! Hope! Hope!"

A female voice reverberated through the speakers. "Impatient, Cleveland?"

The crowd erupted into a shrill cheer. Buffy stood from her table and strode toward the mass of college students surrounding the stage, her drink in hand, suddenly curious about this woman for whom the audience waited with such anticipation.

The guitarist started to jangle a single chord on his instrument. The voice came through the speakers again to join the repeated note. Its source remained an off-stage mystery but poured through the sound system deep, husky, and thick with sexual promise.

_Excuse me for this_

_I just want a kiss._

_I just want to know what it feels like to touch_

_Something so pure _

_Something I'm so sure of_

_What it feels like to stand outside your door._

_I'm unworthy_

_I can see you're above me_

_But I can be lovely given the chance._

The drummer and bass player joined the vocals and guitar, the sound of their instruments filling the smoky air.

_Don't move_

_I want to remember you just like this._

_Don't move_

_It's only a breath or two between our lips._

From out of the stage's wings strode the lead singer. The crowd cheered and whistled at her entrance. Her head was tipped low, looking at her feet as she carefully maneuvered around discarded instruments and electrical chords making her way to the center of the stage. Her long brunette tresses kept her face partially in shadow and Buffy squinted her eyes through the smoky haze of the bar to gain a better purchase on the vocalist's features. The young woman's hair shone against the spotlight that was now trained on her form, the gentle curls tumbling down like a waterfall's cascade. There was something eerily familiar about the curvy woman moving toward the front of the stage, but the Chosen One couldn't quite place it.

_I know why you left_

_I can't blame you myself_

_Must be hard living with ghosts and such an empty shell._

_I tried to warn you_

_I've been a mess since you've known me._

_I can't promise forever_

_But I'm working on it._

_If I can't hold you_

Can I give you a kiss. Can I have a kiss.

Buffy released a low gasp of surprise when the singer flipped her locks out of her face and the spotlight shone directly on her delicate face.

Faith.

The name burned into Buffy's brain like a hot branding iron. She hadn't seen the younger Slayer since the fall of Sunnydale. She knew that Faith had also turned down Giles' and Willow's offer to teach at one of the Slayer academies, but she didn't realize the dark woman had remained at the Cleveland Hellmouth. And now here she was, back on her radar.

The brunette tapped her heavy boot on the wooden floor in time with the drumbeat and belted the song's lyrics, her eyes closed tight. Her voice cracked with raw emotion as if she personally felt every stinging word.

_I see that you're torn_

_I've got some scars of my own_

_Seems I want what I know is gonna leave me hungry._

The brunette's eyes flipped open as if suddenly remembering something. Her body twitched, becoming visibly agitated. She put her hand over her eyes, trying to cast away the spotlight's harsh glare as she peered into the faceless crowd. Buffy began to walk backwards away from the band, suddenly eager to leave the club, but somehow she was unable to turn and tear her eyes away from the lithe form on the stage.

_Don't move_

_I need to remember you just like this._

Buffy froze in her spot, as if the well-timed lyric was meant for her alone. The brunette continued to pace on the stage, looking into the frenzied crowd that sang along with her. Her voice radiated sexuality, apparently having lost none of its huskiness from her days in Sunnydale.

_I know why you left_

_I can't blame you myself_

_Must be hard living with ghosts and such an empty shell._

_I tried to warn you_

_I've been a mess since you've known me._

_I can't promise forever_

_But I'm working on it._

_If I can't hold you_

_Can I give you a kiss_

_Can I –_

Faith stopped singing mid-lyric when her eyes finally found their target. Despite the crowded room it was as though the crowd melted away to reveal the golden-haired Slayer hidden amongst them. The band continued to play, the other members looking at each other puzzled as to why their vibrant vocalist stopped singing. Finally, as if remembering where she was, the raven-haired woman shook her head and continued the song.

_All I have_

_All I can give to you I will_

_Just promise this_

_If I can't have forever_

_Can I have a kiss_

Faith stood in the center of the stage, staring in awe at the slight blonde standing below her. Buffy gazed back, unable to break the intense stare, drinking in the woman commanding the stage. She knew she should have left the moment the brunette took the stage, but something kept her rooted in that space.

_I know why you left_

I can't blame you myself

_Must be hard living with ghosts and such an empty shell._

_I tried to warn you_

_I've been a mess since you've known me_

_I can't promise forever_

_But I'm working on it._

_If I can't hold you_

_Can I give you a kiss_

_Can I give you a kiss_

Can I, can I

_Can I have a kiss_

Faith finished the song, grateful for its end while a slight blush crept up on her cheeks as if Buffy had been reading the private contents of her diary. The crowds cheered and whistled at the song's end. The band started into their next anthem, but Faith walked over to the guitarist and whispered an excuse in his ear. He looked mildly shocked that she would ditch them in the middle of a performance, but knowing the dark-haired girl must have had a good reason to need to leave, he nodded his consent and took over the microphone.

Faith stood on stage for a moment and watched as a flash of blonde escaped out the front door of the club. Without bothering to gather her belongings from backstage, the Boston native quickly exited the bar into the back alley.

She had her reasons for no longer slaying, but seeing Buffy again, if only for a brief moment, had resurfaced wounds and emotions that she believed had scarred over long ago. Faith closed her eyes and controlled her breathing, reaching out into the night for her sister-Slayer. Even though time had passed, their Slayer connection remained strong, and the brunette felt slightly dizzy from the humming that returned to her body – the undeniable buzz that she had felt back in Sunnydale when she first met Buffy Summers.

And now she was going to meet her again.

The brunette opened her eyes and took a deep breath before walking out into the night.

"I had a feeling I'd find you here, Slayer."

Buffy spun on her heels, a wooden stake clenched tightly in her fists. She was slightly surprised to see the dark Slayer standing there and unsure of Faith's intentions, the blonde remained in her fighting stance.

"You? What do you want?" Buffy cried, alarmed and unnerved.

After speeding out of the club, Buffy knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep without first working off some of the energy generated from seeing Faith on stage. She had returned to one of Cleveland's many cemeteries, hoping to find at least one vampire to help her expend that energy.

"Don't think you're the only Slayer in this town, girlfriend. That's what got you in trouble the first time, remember?" Faith mentally slapped herself for falling back into their familiar roles. But it was easier than confronting the blonde and revealing all she felt for the former Californian.

"Where's your little gang?" she continued, bitterly. "I would've thought by now you'd have a whole new group of Cleveland Scoobies hanging on your every word and worshiping the ground you walk on." Faith snorted and glared at the blonde with contempt.

"Why are you doing this, Faith? I thought things had changed after Sunnydale?" The blonde refused to let down her guard, and cautiously eyed the brunette who was now slowly circling her.

"Oh yea? Then how come you couldn't _wait _to get rid of me after SunnyHell collapsed?" Faith vented. "How come I haven't heard or seen from you since we fought side by side against the First?"

"Well why did you come to Cleveland?" the blonde countered. "Did you want to try and steal something else from me?" Buffy quipped in return, stung by the truth in Faith's words.

Faith threw her arms up in frustration. "Fuck it, B. I'm not even slaying anymore. The Hellmouth is all yours."

Buffy dropped the stake to her side and tried not to gawk at the leather-clad girl. "You? Not slaying? I thought you _loved _slaying?" she questioned, in shock.

Faith sighed, looking defeated. "Things change, B. _I _changed. I've got my own reasons for not wanting to slay anymore, okay? Just stay off my case."

An awkward silence passed between the two. Finally Buffy spoke softly. "Why did you follow me here?" She gestured to their unconventional surroundings.

Faith looked down at the ground and kicked a small stone with her heavy boot. "I, uh, I guess I just wanted to see how you were. Make sure you were okay. Geez, don't make a big deal out of it."

Faith's sincere response startled the blonde Slayer. The Boston Slayer was many things, but thoughtful and considerate were not two words that immediately came to mind. Maybe people _could _change.

Faith coughed, annoyed by the silence and lack of Buffy's reply. Although the dark-haired Slayer had showed signs of letting down her emotional armor, she quickly replaced it with sexual bravado.

"Besides, B. You were looking wicked hot at the club tonight and I thought I'd try my luck – that is unless you've found yourself another soul-ed vampire to moon over."

Okay, so maybe people _didn't_ change.

"So did you like the little show?" bantered the brunette.

"I never realized you could sing," Buffy admitted lamely.

"You never took the time to find out," Faith shot back.

A brisk wind rustled the fallen leaves that sparsely covered the cemetery's grounds.

"So, uh, do you write your own songs?" the blonde asked awkwardly, unsure of what to talk about now that it was clear the two former enemies would not come to blows.

Faith laughed darkly at the elder woman's question. "Apparently you're not as up on your pop culture as I thought, Princess. I woulda thought you'd be able to recognize a Kelly Clarkson song."

"Oh, American Idol. I was never into that show. I'm convinced Ryan Seacrest is a demon. Honestly, who has time for all those jobs? Plus, it's just not right for one man to own so many skinny ties. Wait," the blonde finally took a breath. "You're a Kelly Clarkson fan?"

Faith shrugged noncommittally. "I just sing songs that'll get me laid. Plus the college kids eat that shit up."

Another awkward silence fell between the two.

"So, B. Can I?"

Buffy furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Can you what, Faith?"

The dangerous brunette took a step closer and cocked her head to the side. She ran her tongue briefly across her lips. "Like the song says…can I have a kiss?" she murmured huskily, her pouting mouth wide in a lazy and predatory grin.

Buffy's stomach fluttered at the younger Slayer's request. She felt her heartbeat quicken in her chest as she watched the brunette slowly close the distance between them. Faith reached out one hand and gently repositioned a wild blonde lock behind Buffy's right ear. She lightly brushed her fingertips down from the shorter woman's earlobe, down her slight jaw line and down across her exposed neck. Her touch was as soft and as fleeting as a fluttering butterfly.

Buffy stared at the brazen girl from beneath her eyelashes, her eyes half-closed, drunk with anticipation. She felt a wave of heated desire flush her body. It was as if Faith's bold yet delicate touch had awoken a dormant need that Buffy had left unrecognized and unacknowledged for years.

The blonde closed her eyes, her body unable and unwilling to uproot itself from its place. Faith leaned in, shocked that Buffy seemed so willing to give in to her advances. She tentatively brushed her full lips against Buffy's own. The elder Slayer sighed when she felt the slight pressure on her mouth and reaching up, she entangled her fingers in Faith's unruly tresses, pulling the Boston girl's face closer to her own. The kiss lasted only a short minute, both Slayers' tongues dueling for dominance, but it left both girls breathless and flushed.

Faith pulled back finally, her lips feeling bruised from the intensity of Buffy's kiss. She had not expected in her wildest dreams for her lip-lock to be so eagerly returned by the Chosen One. She had thought the blonde would slap her, insult her, or just merely run away. Buffy stood unmoving and wordless, her breath coming out in ragged bursts as though having just run a great distance.

Faith's eyes looked wild and unsteady beneath their dark makeup. "Don't promise what you can't give, B. This isn't Sunnydale and it isn't high school." She stared hard into the blonde's hazel-green eyes, accusing her with only a look. "You and I are equals now. I've paid for my crimes – have you?" The brunette shoved her hands deep into her pockets and turned to leave. "You know where to find me," she called over her shoulder before disappearing into the early morning fog.

Buffy walked home slowly, acutely aware of the sun which had begun to peak up from beyond the horizon. The sky had turned into shades of orange and pink, signaling a new day. The blonde scuffed her feet along the pavement as she walked, thinking about seeing the brunette again after all this time.

A frown crossed her features. "Why does she always show up just when I'm starting to get my life back together again?" The blonde scowled. "Damn it, Buffy. What are you talking about? Your life has never been all-together." She silently scolded herself for falling so easily back into the role of Buffy-hero/Faith-villain.

Upon letting herself into her apartment, she recognized Greg's boots discarded in the entryway. The blonde mentally cursed for having given her new boyfriend a key to her apartment so early in their relationship. She had told him he could come over whenever he wanted, but she had not really meant it.

She padded silently down the hallway and stopped briefly in the small bathroom to wash her face and toss her hair into a ponytail. The blonde moved silently from room to room, not wanting to face Greg and his inevitable questions of where she had been that night. Buffy sat for a few moments at her kitchen table, her head in her hands.

Faith had kissed her. That in itself was not shocking; Buffy always knew the dark Slayer was attracted to her – it was hard to ignore all the double entendres the brunette had directed towards her in Sunnydale. But what _had _shocked the elder Slayer was her own response. She had not only let Faith kiss her, she had _returned _that kiss. Although her best friend was a lesbian, Buffy had not entertained those kinds of feelings – except maybe when it came to Faith. Buffy shut her eyes, hoping to shut out the memories of Faith's heavily guarded eyes, wanting to erase the truth in Faith's accusations, needing to wipe away the feeling of the Boston girl's lips against her own.

With a final sigh, Buffy stood and finally went to bed, knowing that sleep would not come easy. Feeling her slide into the double bed next to him, Greg turned over, mumbling a greeting to his girlfriend. He wrapped his tree-trunk arms around her slight form before quickly falling back asleep. Buffy felt psychologically suffocated underneath the weight of his embrace, but made no move to push him aside. As she heard Greg's breathing become steady and deep, the Slayer bit her lip and held back the sob she could feel bubbling from within. She blinked hard and a wall of tears fell silently down her face, falling unnoticed onto her pillowcase.

Part II

Faith entered the empty club and was instantly greeted with catcalls from the other employees. She slipped into her bar persona, confident and cocky, although her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of a certain blonde girl. The club would open in a few hours, and Faith needed to practice a new set with the house band.

"Hey, Hope! Where'd you run off to last night? Better not do that again, or you'll be looking for new work by the end of the week." The bartender behind the counter ribbed.

"Aw, shut it, Jerry." Faith jeered and sauntered up to the bar. "Y'all couldn't find another lead singer as wicked hot as me, so let it go. You don't really think frat boys come here for your witty bartender banter, do you?"

Jerry chuckled, knowing how true the brunette's words were. He waved her off toward the stage where her band had begun to warm up. As she walked by, he looked appreciatively at her backside. Faith turned to look back at the man. "Hey, Jer. Stop ogling the goodies, you perv." The bartender coughed uncomfortably and went back to his work.

Faith jumped up onto the stage and walked over to the guitarist as he changed his guitar strings. He looked up at the Boston girl and smiled. "Heya, Hope. Who's the new chick?"

Faith looked startled for a moment, but quickly masked her surprise. "Whaddaya mean, Tony?" she asked. There was no way the band could have known about Buffy.

"Oh, c'mon. You can't hide from me, girl. You took off so fast last night I was _sure _you'd scoped out some hot piece in the audience and couldn't wait until the end of our set to get in her pants," the shaggy-haired musician joked.

The dark girl laughed huskily. "Don't be jealous that I get more chicks than you, man." She swatted him playfully and Tony laughed as well, shaking his head. "Hope, I don't even _try _to compete with you. I know when I'm beat." He winked and returned his attention back to his guitar.

Faith practiced the new songs with butterflies in her stomach. Performing never made the Boston Slayer nervous, but wondering if the elder Slayer would return that night had tied her stomach in knots. After their confusing confrontation the previous night, Faith didn't know what to expect next.

When the club opened for the evening, the Wednesday crowd was larger than normal. All evening and into the early morning, Faith sang for the enthusiastic audience, partly distracted, as she looked wistfully out into the masses, searching for the golden-haired Slayer.

"Damn it, Lehane; you fucked it up again," the young woman swore as the night wore on. She cursed herself for making such a grand exit the night prior. Her pride had forced her to leave the cemetery after kissing the blonde, afraid of rejection. Now, unless Buffy came back to the club or the dark Slayer skipped work to hang out in cemeteries, she had no way of seeing the Californian again. By the time the final set ended, the brunette had conceded defeat.

"Hope, you sticking around tonight or you got another hot date?" shot the drummer, Shane, as the band put away their equipment while the other club employees cleaned up after another night. Although he knew she was way out of his league, the tattooed musician still hoped to one day woo the leather-clad girl.

"I'm not gonna be good company tonight, guys. I'll see ya later," she replied. Her response was met with a chorus of boos from her band mates, but the young girl ignored them. She shouldered her bag and exited the club, somber thoughts clouding her mind.

"Hi." The voice came out low and shy. Without her Slayer hearing, Faith probably would have missed the greeting. She looked around the darkened alley to find the source of the voice. She often had "groupies" wait for her after a particularly inspiring set, but this voice did not belong to one of her regulars.

"B?" she called into the darkness.

Buffy walked out of the shadows and into the dimly lit alley. Faith's breath caught in her throat. Buffy's shoulder-length blonde hair was styled into delicate curls that bounced airily with each step toward the shocked girl. She wore a form-fitting sweater, tight jeans that disappeared into leather boots that encased her slender calves, and a knit scarf tied around her neck shielding her from the brisk fall twilight.

Buffy walked close until she could practically feel the heat radiating off of Faith's body. She smiled shyly up at the brown-eyed woman. "I come with gifts," she murmured, holding out a pack of cigarettes in her hand. "I couldn't remember what kind you smoked, so I got the least smoky ones since you're a singer and all."

Faith released a deep chuckle in her throat. "Hell, B. Don't ya know smoking just makes my voice sound sexier?" She winked at the elder, yet smaller girl.

Now it was Faith's turn to be nervous. She ran her fingers through her long hair. "So, ah, what are you doing here?"

Buffy reached out tentatively and grabbed the tips of Faith's fingers. "I thought we could grab some coffee and maybe catch up? I know you've been working all night, but well, so have I, and um, I thought maybe you'd like coffee or maybe pancakes. I don't know if singing making you hungry and…" she trailed off blushing. "Well, I thought maybe you'd consider having an early breakfast with me." She looked up, her eyes shimmering with hope.

Faith nearly melted into a puddle on the pavement. The normally bold blonde was acting so unsure of herself, but rather than tease her for channeling Willow, the Boston girl wanted nothing more than to scoop her into her arms.

"So, um, you got some place in mind? I usually don't do breakfast unless you count peanuts from the bar," Faith admitted sheepishly.

"Well, I did a little research and there's a twenty-four hour diner a few blocks from here?" Buffy offered.

Faith looked impressed at the effort and thought the blonde had obviously put into this meeting. "Yea, I'm game. Sounds good." The Boston girl smiled broadly at Buffy. The elder Slayer felt a deep blush flood her cheeks at the sight of the brunette's deep dimples. Buffy reflected on the rarity of such a smile aimed toward her, free of any hidden agendas.

Buffy cleared her throat with a cough. "So I never got the chance to ask the other night…. 'Hope'?"

Faith cringed at the name. "Yea, lame I know. Let's not mention it again, okay?"

Buffy reached out tentatively as if considering holding hands with the other woman. Still unsure of her own feelings, however, she opted for the middle ground and linked arms with the taller girl. Satisfied with her decision, Buffy led them away from the empty bar and toward breakfast.

"So Red's still with Kennedy? That's unbelievable. I woulda thought an all-powerful Wicca like her would get tired of that brat after a while."

Buffy shrugged her slight shoulders. "You and me both. But apparently they're still going strong."

Buffy looked across the table and marveled at Faith's voracious appetite. The younger woman had managed to polish off a giant stack of pancakes drowned in syrup, a pile of bacon, and was now shoveling through a mound of hash browns. The blonde lamely picked at her powder sugar-covered French toast.

"You know though, I bet it kills Red to have a second-hand Slayer in her bed. But I mean, if she couldn't have _you_, I guess K's an okay substitution." Faith wiggled her eyebrows suggestively toward the seated Slayer.

"Are you saying I'm a brat like Kennedy?" Buffy exclaimed in mock horror.

The Boston Slayer chuckled between mouthfuls of potatoes. "Ah, c'mon, B. I just meant that I'm sure if Willow could have her choice of Slayers, you'd be at the top of her list." The girl spread her hands to signal a truce.

Buffy tossed a well-aimed balled-up napkin at the brunette and stuck out her tongue. "I can't believe we're even talking about this."

"Yeah, well, you're at the top of _my _list, at least," Faith mumbled. She stumbled over the words in a rush to acknowledge what had been haunting her since the previous night in the cemetery. Buffy spilt the creamer she had been carefully pouring into her cup of murky coffee. The powder settled on the diner table in a thin sheen. Faith's face burned bright with embarrassment. It wasn't typical of her to be so honest about her emotions during daylight hours.

Their forty-something waitress waddled to their table. "Y'all need s'more coffee?" she drawled, eyeballing the two young women.

Buffy continued to stare at the mess on the table, unable to respond to either Faith or the impatient waitress. Faith waved a hand at the server, annoyed by her intrusion. "Just the check, yeah?"

The waitress huffed a little and wandered over to check on the other tables scattered around the diner. Now that the sun was full in the sky, the restaurant had become more crowded with hung-over college students and weary commercial truck drivers.

The blonde spoke finally. "Faith, will you tell me something?" The dark woman looked back to her sister-Slayer, whose face had suddenly become serious.

"Back in Sunnydale…why did we fight? I mean, we were the only two girls in the world Chosen and instead of being best friends, we became enemies."

Faith looked down at her hands, unable to meet the blonde's intense and inquisitive stare.

"I've had a lot of time to think about that, B. Especially when I was in prison." Faith took a deep breath, readying herself for her next words. She had practiced them so many times in her mind, and now they would finally be free.

"When I came to Sunnydale, I was just this scared kid from the wrong side of Southie. I was looking for a place I could belong. My old Watcher had told me all about you and I had worshiped you from afar. Buffy Summers, the girl who died and came back, the Slayer who averted apocalypses every day. And then I met you and you were even better than the legends. Plus you had this tight group of friends and a real mom – not an alcoholic waste of space. Part of me was pissed that you seemed to have it all. I was a Slayer too, but my life had been nothing but fucked up and here you were living large in California." The younger girl paused, her eyes cloudy.

"The other part of me just wanted what you had. For a while I thought I wanted to _be_ you. But, I realized soon after meeting you that I just wanted to be _with _you. I mean, dammit, B." Faith grabbed the elder girls' hand from across the table.

"You're so goddamn fuckin' beautiful." The dark girl looked deep in the other woman's hazel-green eyes. "You have this little half smile that totally turns me inside out," she admitted. "Plus don't forget all those sexy superhero powers." Buffy looked away shyly but smiled.

"But seriously, B. When Angel came back, I was devastated. I thought you and I had this kiss-ass connection and that after a while maybe you'd start to like me back. And then that fucked up Gwendolyn Post shit went down. She made me realize that as much as I might want it, I'd never be a part of your world. I'd always be on the outside looking in."

Buffy continued to sit in silence, not interrupting. This was the most the Boston girl had ever revealed to her and she feared stopping the flood as it flowed free.

"By the time I got out of my coma, I had had nine months to stew – I replayed the night you stabbed me over and over again. And to make things worse, the first time I saw you when I woke up, you were cuddled up with some cardboard jock, as though Angel had never existed." Faith swallowed her anger, not wanting to rehash old wounds.

"I woke up, and I was all alone. No one was waiting by my hospital bed praying for me to wake up. Hell, even the doctors and nurses had abandoned me by then. I felt like I didn't exist, B. And all I could think about was making you remember me. Making sure you never forgot about me again." The dark Slayer's voice cracked at the few last words.

Faith wiped a hand across her eyes, picking up the few stray tears that threatened to escape. "So there's my big confession. Your turn, B. Why did _you _hate me?"

"I never _hated_ you, Faith," the blonde quickly sputtered. The dark woman raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Okay, at first I resented you. You invaded my town and impressed everyone with your leather and your stories and this wild abandonment. My friends all suddenly wanted me to 'find the fun', and even my Watcher thought you were the more dedicated Slayer."

"But then I was afraid of being around you." The blonde paused, considering her next words. "Slaying had always been an inconvenience – a sacred duty – or at least that's what I had convinced myself. But you made me feel like I wasn't just different from other girls – you made me feel like I was _better _than other girls." She sighed suddenly, as if remembering the past came with a heavy burden. "I had been wild once – and Angelus nearly destroyed the world because of it. You made it harder for me to deny the primitive, unrestrained part of being a Slayer that I had held in check for so long. And when we killed Allan – yes, don't look so shocked – _we_…it was like Angelus all over again…only this time _we _had become the evil ones. I needed to control how I felt – I needed to control _you._"

"I haven't told anyone this, but even with all the death and destruction surrounding my life, the only thing that still gives me nightmares is the memory of stabbing you." Buffy looked across the table at her sister-Slayer. "Not because it was the first time I had stabbed a human, but because it was _you. _And when you came back, when you woke up, you were _so _angry. Everything seemed to happen so fast – the body switch, the Council's henchmen…" the blonde's words trailed off.

"I... I was an idiot. I was _so _angry when you left me again… I-I guess I can realize now that I wasn't upset _at _you for having sex with my boyfriend. I, ah, was more upset that Riley had slept _with _you_. _Even if it was my body, it was still _you, _Faith." The elder Slayer took a deep breath before continuing. "And I didn't want anyone else to –"

Their waitress suddenly interrupted the conversation yet again. "Are you girls _sure _you don't need anything else?" their waitress asked, frowning with a pitcher of coffee in one hand. She hated patrons who stayed too long, monopolizing her tables and tips.

Faith flashed the woman a wild look, wanting to snap her neck for interrupting Buffy's words, but she kept her anger in check. The brunette finally held up her hands, surrendering. "Alright, lady. We get the hint. We're outta here." She turned to Buffy. "Don't worry, B. I got this." She tossed a few bills on the table and the two stood up to leave, Buffy once again linking arms with the Boston woman.

A driver in a ripped jean jacket, worn Carharts and a dirty Cleveland Browns cap wolf-whistled at the two slayers as they left the diner, arm in arm. Faith normally would have belted the forward man with Slayer strength, but as her thoughts were preoccupied with the feeling of Buffy's arm linked with her own again, all she could muster was an icy glare in his direction. The bell above the diner's front door jingled as they exited together into the new day.

The sun was now high in the sky, cutting through the brisk fall morning. "Well, I'm this way. My apartment, I mean. You…you could come over?" Faith offered.

Buffy looked flustered at the proposal. "Oh, I – uh – have laundry," she stuttered in response.

Faith scowled slightly and looked down at her boots. "S'ok, B. No big deal," she muttered.

Buffy grabbed the woman's arm. "Can I see you again?" she demanded desperately.

Faith looked troubled by the question. After all this time of believing that Buffy hated her and was purposely avoiding her, she couldn't quite register everything that had happened the past twenty-four hours. "Uh, sure, B. Um. I have to work tonight. The band and all."

"Right, and I have to patrol tonight." Buffy responded, despondently. The two fell silent.

"Maybe a day thing?" blurted the brunette. "There's this street festival in my neighborhood tomorrow. Kind of like a block party or a carnival or something. It could be fun?"

Buffy smiled widely at the suggestion. "That sounds perfect."

"I'll be right back." Faith turned on her heels and jogged back inside the diner. She returned quickly, a napkin in her hand. "My address," she informed. Buffy looked down at the carefully scrawled letters and numbers.

"So tomorrow then? Around noon?" the younger woman clarified. "It'll give ya a chance to sleep in. I don't wanna deal with a Slayer too early in the morning," she winked.

Buffy smiled and gave the other Slayer a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, surprising the Boston girl. "I'll be there at noon," she assured.

The brunette hastily ran her wide-toothed comb through her damp tresses. "God damn it," she growled. "Of all the mornings to oversleep."

The previous day had been a blur after leaving Buffy outside the diner. Faith showed up for work with a shit-eating grin plastered across her face. Even the typical grumblings of Jerry, the head bartender, whining about his job couldn't shake the Boston girl's good mood. That night's set was especially energetic for a Thursday night – thirsty Thursdays for the college crowd. She spent the early morning hours playing poker at the club with her band mates and drank just enough JD and diet to keep her buzzed. But perhaps it had been _too _much to drink; even with her Slayer stamina, she had slept through her alarm clock.

The offending machine now read 11:50 – only ten minutes until the blonde was slated to appear at her apartment door. Faith vaguely remembered the habitual lateness of her sister-Slayer and hoped that today would not be an exception.

A sharp knock on the door jolted the dark girl. She glanced at her bedroom clock once again – it was too early to be Buffy. Faith threw open the front door of her apartment and nearly gasped in surprise when she saw the small blonde standing in the hallway.

The elder Slayer's eyes went wide, noticing the shapely girl's state of undress. Faith had not bothered to put on any clothes and stood in the doorframe with only a small bath towel wrapped tightly around her lithe form.

"B? Uh…you're early?" Faith announced, her words both a statement and a question.

The blonde half-smiled, still flustered. "I, um, didn't want to be late. It's kind of a new thing I'm trying. I've been waiting outside for the past half an hour, kind of pacing," she expanded. "I was worried your neighbors might report a stalker if I didn't come up."

Faith chuckled and moved to the side. "C'mon in, B. _Mi casa es su casa._ I'm almost ready."

"I, ah, _was_ wondering if you were planning on wearing that today." Buffy motioned to Faith's towel. "Otherwise I'm feeling _really_ overdressed," she joked.

A lazy smile appeared on the younger woman's face. "S'ok with me. You can take it _all _off if it'll make you more comfortable."

Buffy swatted at the girl lightly, a warm smile on her face. "Hurry up and finish getting ready. I want to get my face painted." The Californian hadn't felt this genuinely happy in months.

Faith turned and strode deeper into her apartment to go back into the bathroom. Buffy allowed her eyes to follow the barely-covered girl, her stare lingering on the other Slayer's bare legs.

"You can look if you want," called the brunette, without glancing back. Buffy quickly averted her eyes to the ground and blushed fiercely. "Look? What? I wasn't –"

"The apartment. You can look around if you want. It's nothing special though," clarified the towel-clad Slayer.

The Boston girl's apartment was impeccably clean, which surprised the elder Slayer. Gone were the piles of comic books and video games, replaced by an acoustic guitar and a neat stack of meditation books on a glass coffee table.

Faith re-appeared from the back half of the apartment quickly, her brown tresses still slightly damp but effortlessly falling in gentle waves. Buffy smiled, noticing the nervousness displayed in the dark girl's chocolate colored eyes.

Gone was the dark make-up that usually hid her features like a mask. The girl wore only a slight shimmer of lip balm and her expressive eyes were highlighted only with a thin line of eyeliner and a brush of black mascara. The cleavage pumping, bulging tops had been rejected for a simple vintage t-shirt cut high on the woman's toned arms. Dark jeans encased the young woman's slender legs, the tight leather pants forgotten for at least one day. And almost feminine black ballerina flats replaced Faith's stereotypical chunky combat boots.

Yes, maybe people _could _change.

The streets surrounding Faith's walk-up were closed to traffic for the neighborhood festival. Local businesses sold their wares on the sidewalks and others peddled handmade crafts from portable booths. Carnival games were scattered throughout the few city blocks and tents selling sweets like cotton candy, lemonade, and funnel cakes beckoned to festival-goers.

Faith willed her nerves to calm and her palms to stay dry when Buffy first clamped her hand on the brunette's and delicately interlaced their fingers. The smaller woman had a child-like innocence and wonder that early afternoon as she giddily led the usually cynical and sarcastic Bostonian from one attraction to the next.

The two walked hand in hand up to a dunk tank. "Hey ladies," taunted the coed perched vicariously in the tank. "Got any skills with balls?" He blatantly checked out both women from head to toe, seemingly oblivious to their hand-lock.

Faith fished her wallet from her back pocket and calmly handed a dollar to the woman tending the booth. She lightly tossed one of the neon softballs up and down in her right hand while the other hand rested cockily on her left hip. Buffy laid a soft hand on the brunette's bare arm and smiled softly. "Don't hurt him too badly," she muttered under her breath for only the raven-haired Slayer to hear. The brunette nodded and shivered slightly, just from the feeling of Buffy's soft skin touching her own.

The first ball met its target, sending the formerly cocky boy plunging into the water. He resurfaced, sputtering in surprise. "You've done this before," he stated, not a question but an observation. As the college man climbed up the ladder reluctantly, Buffy quickly snatched one of the neon balls before Faith could reach for another. She grinned widely at the brunette before tossing the missile towards its goal. Before the boy could reposition himself on the dunk-tank seat, he found himself falling once again into the water.

The woman at the booth exploded with laughter. "I've been waiting all morning for someone to do that." She winked at the two Slayers. "Enjoy the rest of the day, girls."

The two chomped happily on large ears of corn as they continued to walk through the sights and smells of the street festival, just enjoying each other's company.

"I wonder why they never had anything like this in SunnyHell?" Faith mused, wiping her mouth.

"Oh, right. Like _that _would have ended well. Demons _love _cotton candy," joked Buffy.

Faith glanced over at her sister-Slayer and smirked. "B," laughed the brunette, "c'mere. You're a total mess."

Buffy stopped in her tracks and her eyes went wide as though she had been caught committing a crime. Her face was covered in butter and salt from the corn on the cob. Faith wiped the smaller woman's face with a napkin, beginning to erase the excess. "Seriously, have you never eaten corn on the cob before? You're like a 2 year old with a birthday cake."

"Hey, I had corn in California," protested the petite blonde as she allowed the taller woman to clean her face. "It just usually came in cans or in frozen baggies."

The taller woman stopped cleaning and looked at Buffy. "There. All clean," she approved. Without thinking, she placed a less-than-chaste kiss on the blonde's mouth, which tasted slightly of butter and salt. When she realized the elder Slayer wasn't returning the kiss, she backed away, her pouting mouth twisted into a frown.

"B, I'm…I'm sorry. I thought – I didn't think you'd mind," she stated, her voice full of apologies and confusion.

"I'm so sorry, Faith. I-I need some time. I just can't do this right now. It's all so confusing," the blonde mumbled, excusing herself.

The brunette blinked back the tears that had begun to sting her eyes and watched as the slender form of the woman she loved left her side and ran away into the anonymity of the festival crowd.

**Part III**

**P.O.V. Buffy – Present Day**

And now I'm back here at this club. Again. I know I told her that I couldn't see her anymore. It was getting too confusing. She had been my enemy for so long and now we were suddenly hanging out and touching and flirting?

But the truth is I can't stop myself from wanting to see her. After I ran off that day at the street festival, I went back to my routine of patrolling at night and sleeping through most of the day, seeing Greg only when our schedules allowed it. But after about a week I found myself being drawn back to this club.

I haven't actually talked to her since that day at the street fair, months ago, but I'm here at her bar nearly every night, just watching. She doesn't know I'm here. I convince myself that it's better this way, just until I can figure out what it is that I'm feeling. I'm not like a stalker or anything, though. I mean… only follow her home _sometimes_.

And everything would have stayed like this, except Greg insisted on bringing me to this club with some of his friends. We could have gone to any bar in the whole city, but he just _had _to choose this one. And as soon as he made the suggestion, I knew everything was going to change.

From the opening crunchy guitar chords, Buffy knew she was in trouble. Despite the wave of nausea deep in her gut, she stood and left her corner table, feeling her body tugged in the direction of the main stage as though she were a magnet seeking its opposite pole. Greg and his friends shrugged and watched the blonde unexpectedly disappear into the crowd that had gathered around the club's stage. None of the men made a move to follow the girl and sat unalarmed; they'd learned over the past few months that Buffy wasn't the most conventional person – she had a knack for running off without telling them where she was going.

The drums joined the catchy guitar rift and suddenly Faith stood, center stage, her hands wrapped tight around the stationary microphone. She took a deep breath and stared out into the crowded dark club, as if searching for something before beginning her soulful tune.

_I been thinkin'_

_How you're wastin'_

_All that lovin' on someone else_

_I can't take it_

The brunette's leather-clad hips twitched in time with the beat of the drums. Her smoky eye make-up further cast her face in shadow, despite the spotlight shining down. She looked dangerous, yet the stage lighting gave her long brunette tresses an ethereal look, haloed in brightness.

_I will make you_

_Forget all about the one I'll be replacin'_

_So just say it_

Faith's hands left the microphone and she moved them up and down her body, slightly caressing her own form, sending the audience into a wild frenzy. Buffy marveled at the woman on the stage before her. She radiated pure sexual energy. A coy, knowing smile crept onto the dark Slayer's face as she broke into the next lines.

_I know you've been thinkin' 'bout it_

_I see you lookin' around_

_I will give you_

_What you're missin'_

What you see in me when you think no one's watchin'

The brunette's eyes scanned the crowd, searching for what she was feeling. Those tingles every night weren't just a high from performing. Although Buffy had told the Boston Slayer months ago that she couldn't see her anymore, Faith knew the blonde was there in the audience again. She knew that the blonde was there nearly every night, thinking her presence had gone unnoticed. But tonight the dark Slayer was going to prove her wrong.

_Don't wait too long_

_I'm not that strong_

_I can't hold on_

_Much longer_

Faith released a low moan into the microphone before unleashing into the song's chorus.

_Oh I see it now_

_I know your dirty little secret_

_Oh I got you now_

_I found your dirty little secret_

Through the masses of moving people, the crowd surging and ebbing like the tide, Faith somehow found her target. Buffy felt her skin flush hot when she felt the brunette's dark chocolate eyes suddenly train on her. For a brief moment, a flicker of sadness appeared behind the brunette's generally heavily guarded eyes when their gazes met.

_You don't touch_

_You don't talk_

_You don't look me in the face_

_Your dirty little secret_

Buffy couldn't move, like a deer in headlights, trapped under the hypnotic gaze of the younger woman. The drum kit thumped in the background, mirroring the pounding in Buffy's chest.

_I don't care_

_What they say_

_I'll deal with anything_

_If it gets you next to me_

_I don't want_

_Just a taste_

_I want you anytime I feel a little craving_

_I'm not that strong_

_I can't hold on_

The band changed its tempo, rapidly switching from chorus to bridge. The guitar riffs soared high, and Faith's voice matched the desperation of the soloing instrument. She marched from one side of the stage to the other, whipping the heaving masses into a wild frenzy.

_What are you hiding in your covers_

_Like to wait, little lover_

_What will you do when they discover your eyes on another?_

_Why you runnin' round in circles_

_Tryin' so hard to discourage_

_Tellin' secrets that'll surface_

_One way or another_

Buffy's mouth felt dry, and she realized she had forgotten to breath. She released a shaky breath, feeling suddenly vulnerable even though she remained in the anonymity of the crowd, unlike the woman on stage who seared her heart with each new lyric.

Faith gave a little kick in the air towards the drummer. Energy radiated off her gyrating body in thick waves.

_Oh, I see it now_

_I know your dirty little secret_

_Oh, Oh, I got you now_

_I found your dirty little secret_

_You never touch_

_You never talk_

_You never look me in the face_

She unleashed her rage and frustration as the chorus repeated. Her voice, raspy, throaty, dark, breaking on every syllable, her tone suddenly accusatory as the song jangled to an end.

_You never touch_

_You never talk to me_

_You never look me in the face_

_Your dirty little secret_

_Dirty, little secret_

_Dirty_

_Dirty_

The crowd exploded in applause and cheers for the sexy brunette's heated, emotional performance. Rather than basking in the attention of her fans, however, Faith dropped the microphone with a hollow thud. And without giving the crowd a second look, she strode off the stage, leaving her band to soak up the appreciative chants instead.

Buffy sat back at the table with Greg and his friends, nervously playing with the plastic straw in her watered-down drink. After the band had finished that final song, she had returned to the seated men and tried to convince them to leave or at least head to another bar.

The lyrics of the band's final anthem replayed through the Chosen One's brain as she tried to not think about the woman who had so recently sang the emotional and accusatory song. She knew she was falling in love with the younger woman again; over the past few months, she had finally admitted to herself that she had loved her back in Sunnydale. Buffy wondered now if it was too late – if too much pain and betrayal had passed between them for the two to ever be together.

A husky voice shook her from her daydream. "Hey, B. Gonna introduce me to your friends or what?" Buffy looked up sharply to find the raven-haired Slayer standing before her, hands on her hips. She had changed out of the clothes from her performance and was now dressed in a tight red halter and dangerously low-riding black jeans that clung to her curves.

Greg stared, a little star-struck. "Wow, Buffy. You never told me you knew the lead singer of the band here."

Faith allowed herself a tight grin toward the seated jock. "Oh yea. B and I go _way _back, don't we, girlfriend?" Buffy tried to smile as well, but it looked more like a grimace.

Greg's two friends stared at the new addition to the group, nearly drooling over the Boston-born woman. Faith nodded in their direction. "So which of y'all is gonna buy me a drink? I'm parched from all that singing." The men clambered to their feet and took off toward the bar, elbowing each other in a scramble to reach the bartender first.

Faith slid onto one of the now-vacant stools. She reached across the table and possessively grabbed Buffy's hands into her own, lightly playing with the other girl's fingers. "So who's the Beefcake, B?"

Buffy felt herself turning shades of red as she tried to ignore how Faith's feather light touches were inflaming her skin as if the younger woman were branding her flesh as her own. "This is uh, Greg. He's um, my boyfriend," she stammered.

Pain and betrayal filled the Boston Slayer's eyes before quickly disappearing into disinterest. "Boyfriend, eh? I guess you really _are _into those cardboard types." Greg looked mildly insulted, as he tried in vain to ignore the woman's comment and her hands on his girlfriend.

"You know, B," continued the dangerous brunette, "when I first saw Riley I thought he was a fluke – I mean after Angel and all the other um, unconventional men you've dated." Faith stared hard into Buffy's eyes and continued to hold her hands, avoiding Greg who was quickly growing angry with each of Faith's familiar touches.

Greg's two equally meaty friends returned to the table, each with drinks in their beefy fists. They shoved each other slightly, vying for the brunette's attentions. Faith stood up, dropping Buffy's hands. "Aw, boys. No need to fight. Plenty of me to go around." She grabbed both alcohol-filled glasses and quickly slammed the well drinks, relishing the slow burn of hard liquor down her throat. She placed the now-empty glasses on the tabletop and abruptly grabbed Buffy's hands again, pulling the blonde to her feet. "Let's dance, B. It's been a while."

Buffy, as if in a trance, allowed herself to be led onto the dance floor. Greg released a useless expletive in protest, but he didn't follow the two. A DJ had taken over for the live band, and a pulsing jungle beat thumped from the floor speakers. The dance floor was filled with sweating, young bodies, bumping and grinding against each other, as if craving human touch and the need to feel alive. Faith maneuvered them into the center of the mass of dancers; bodies moving out of the way like the Red Seas parting for Moses.

Faith turned to face the elder Slayer. She leaned in close, her face moving past the blonde's startled features. Her lips lightly brushed against Buffy's right ear as she whispered just loud enough, "I need to know if you still feel the same." Buffy involuntarily shuddered at her words and the soft touch of the dark Slayer's mouth against her skin. The brunette placed her hands on Buffy's jean-clad hips and pulled the smaller woman close until their hipbones touched. "C'mon, B. Show me," she commanded.

The two women swayed in time to the pulsing bass, Faith never releasing her stronghold on the other woman's waist. The brunette stared hard into the dilating pupils of her former enemy, trying to control her breathing that dared to burst out in short, uneven gasps every time Buffy's hipbone bumped harshly against her lower body.

"I can't stop thinking about you, Buffy."

The smaller woman was breathing heavy now from the dancing and the intoxication she felt from the nearness of the brunette. She became acutely aware that the younger Slayer had called her Buffy, rather than the casual "B" nickname.

Faith held the other Slayer tighter. "I stopped slaying because of you."

"Because of me?" Buffy's head was swimming in confusion.

Faith shook her head, her eyes dark. "In Sunnydale, I relished the kill. I got off on the feeling of unleashing all my rage on the undead. But after spending more time with you, I loved slaying just because…well…because I got to do it _with you._ I looked forward to every night's patrol not because I wanted to kill things. I just wanted to be with you. And now…without you, slaying's empty." The brunette sighed sadly, "It hurts, B. When I first got to Cleveland I still tried to patrol. I couldn't sleep at night without killing at least a few vamps. But it just feels empty now. Everything's empty without you by my side."

Without warning, the brunette pulled the slight woman impossibly closer and pressed her thick, pouting lips against Buffy's mouth. The two stopped dancing, lost in the moment, seemingly oblivious to the scene around them. Buffy tangled her fingers in the dark Slayer's long, wild tresses, pulling their faces closer, surrendering herself to the kiss. Faith's hands slid from Buffy's face, down her body until they rested on the blonde's backside.

"Hey!" An angry masculine voice shattered the moment. Faith felt a rough hand grab her bare shoulder and rip her away from the elder Slayer's embrace. She held back the instinctive need to break someone's neck when she sensed that the attacker was human, not demon. "What the fuck are you doing, kissing my girlfriend?" Greg leaned in, his face inches from the dark woman's, his features twisted with rage and jealousy.

The brunette's eyes flashed instinctively with possession. "Take a hike, Captain Cardboard. Buffy was mine years before you showed up." She spat out the words, claiming the blonde as her own. Faith's entire body twitched with rage, her muscles flexing uncontrollably.

Greg looked over at his girlfriend expectantly. "Who the hell _is _this bitch?" he demanded.

Faith clenched her fists at his words, wanting nothing more than to launch her fist through this man's face. A small circle of by-standers had gathered around the threesome and watched the scene intently as the pulsing beat of dance music continued to drone on in the background.

"Greg. Don't make a scene," Buffy tried to reason, looking warily at the ever-growing crowd.

"A scene?" The man's voice raised an octave with his anger. "I'm not the one with my tongue down some random chick's throat!" he bellowed.

Buffy quickly looked over at Faith, amazed at the brunette's self-control. The old Faith would have wailed on Greg by now for half the insults. She could tell that the dangerous woman was nearing the tipping point, however.

"Greg. You and I haven't been working out for a long time," she started. "Faith and I…we-we have history. I'm sorry you had to find out like this."

"_No way_ are you choosing this _slut_ over me," Greg fumed.

Now it was Buffy's turn to get angry. She narrowed her eyes, her tiny fists balled up at her sides. _"You do not talk about her like that,"_ she hissed. Greg's eyes momentarily widened in surprise at Buffy's response. He had never seen emotion like this come from the small woman. Buffy turned her back on the man, ready to leave.

"Where do you think you're going? This isn't over." Greg grabbed the elder Slayer's arm, attempting to stop her departure.

The muscles in Buffy's arm rippled under his touch like a wild cat. She paused her exit and looked down at the hand on her arm. "You really _don't _want to make me angry, Gregory," she warned, coldly. Greg tightened his fingers around her arm. "Well _I'm _already pissed!" he yelled.

Faster than anyone in the crowd could follow, the small blonde wiggled out of his grasp and with brutal force, twisted his arm behind his back. Greg yelped from the pressure on his joints and fell to his knees, defeated.

"I'm changing the locks to my apartment, Gregory," Buffy stated, her voice flat and unemotional. "I'll put your things in the hallway." She pushed against him, causing the built man to fall face down on the sticky dance floor.

"Geez, those self-defense classes really worked!" she stated innocently, eyeballing the crowd that had gathered. "Let that be a lesson to abusive boyfriends everywhere. Let's go, Hope." She grabbed the younger Slayer's hand and pulled her off the dance floor and out of the crowded club running through the darkness.

When the two had some distance between themselves and the club, Faith finally stopped the blonde.

"B, did you just… Was that just… Are you saying you wanna be with me?" she asked although she feared being rejected by the blonde yet again.

Buffy quickly moved to embrace the brunette tightly. She buried her face in the taller woman's shoulder and let herself cry quietly. Faith felt her bare shoulder become wet with Buffy's tears. She held the woman back at a distance, looking into her shining hazel-green eyes.

"B…baby, hey…what's wrong?" Faith brushed her fingertips lightly against Buffy's face, touching the tear streaks.

"I-I've just been so confused for so long. I've never felt like I fit in. I've never felt like I belonged anywhere. When I died…the second time…when I went to Heaven…I was truly happy. And then my friends tore me out of Heaven. And even though it's gotten easier, I still have days when it feels like I'm living in Hell. The world can be so loud and hard and dirty." The blonde sniffed hard and wiped at her eyes before continuing.

"When we were battling against the First, they allowed me to become distant. All my friends, they accepted that I had to be that way to lead them against this huge evil. And then we won. And I was lost again. With the Hellmouth destroyed, I didn't have a mission anymore. And with Sunnydale gone, I didn't even have my family with me anymore. They're all scattered around the world, happy with their new lives."

"But I don't have a new life. I'm here again at the Hellmouth. A new Hellmouth, but still a Hellmouth. It's like I wasn't able to move on. Everyone else could go on with the next chapter of their life, but it's like I'm a one-chapter-book. I can't teach those other girls how to not die. I can't _not_ be a Slayer. But being the Slayer means I have to cut out everyone in my life, it seems."

Faith looked angry. "But since I'm a Slayer too you don't have to cut me out? Way to make a girl feel special, B." Her chocolate colored eyes flashed. "I get it…because I've got superpowers, we can hang. And Captain Cardboard, back there, just couldn't cut it."

Buffy waved her arms manically in the air. "Damn it, I'm sorry. That's not what I was trying to say…I boarded the babble-train and lost where I was going with all of this."

Faith looked back at the blonde and crossed her arms as if waiting for further clarification.

"Okay, let me try this again," the blonde started. "With you, Faith, I finally feel happy. When I'm with you, I finally feel like maybe being alive isn't so terrible after all."

"Oh." Faith looked surprised by the smaller woman's admission and got quiet suddenly, dropping her arms to her sides.

"I-I want to take things slow though, if that's okay. I want to do things right this time," Buffy pleaded, her eyes filled with hope.

"Do ya think…" the brunette started hesitantly, "that maybe we could do a sweep of Pleasant Rest?" The Boston woman hadn't been slaying in months and her skin nearly crawled with need.

Buffy laughed. "Not exactly the first date scenario I was expecting, but okay."

Faith winked at the elder woman. "C'mon, I think I know where some vamps have been nesting," she urged.

"A nest? Someone's aiming high for her first time out again. I hope you're not just doing this to impress me and get in my pants," Buffy teased.

"Well, you know me, B," Faith shrugged.

Buffy shook her head, her blonde locks bouncing. "I never gave us the chance to get to know you. Luckily, I'm a quick learner."

Faith smiled knowingly. She held her hand out for the small blonde who gladly took it in her own. The two walked in comfortable silence toward Pleasant Rest, hand in hand. Their easy gate turned into a quickened pace the closer they came to the cemetery. Both were anxious for the first kill of the night and to once again fight side by side.

A group of vampires had been nesting in a crypt just within the front gates of the cemetery. The two women rushed into a mausoleum, sensing their location, adrenaline rushing through their veins. Moonlight flooded into the crypt, illuminating a group of badly dressed vampires. They quickly picked off one vampire each before the rest of the undead group was able to respond.

The Californian wrinkled her nose. "Sunnydale's undead were far more stylish, I have to admit," quipped the elder Slayer.

Faith laughed and adopted her fighting stance, a stake clenched in one hand. "You _would _notice their fashion, B. They could be wearing Paris couture for all I care. As long as they turn to dust, it's good enough for me."

A large denim and flannel-covered vampire lumbered toward the pair, his game face twisted into a snarl. "Slayer," he growled.

Buffy backhanded him, immediately snapping his neck. "_Slayers. _Get it right," she responded, her eyes flashing. Faith flashed a smile in the direction of the blonde and launched herself toward the group of remaining vampires while Buffy finished off the ogre-shaped vampire.

As if she'd never taken a break from slaying, Faith fell into a comfortable rhythm, even though she used muscles that had lain dormant for months. The blonde sat down on a cement coffin and watched her partner efficiently begin to kill the remaining vampires, kicking and punching to an unheard beat. While Buffy possessed deceptive strength, the younger Slayer utilized speed and agility in her fighting style as though she were on the dance floor keeping time to the thumping beat.

A group of three vampires suddenly surrounded the Boston Slayer. "A little help here?" she called out to her seated partner. Buffy jumped down from the crypt and threw herself back into the fight. Buffy pulled one of the vampires off the younger girl. The blonde and the undead creature circled each other, looking for weaknesses.

Faith landed a roundhouse square in the chest of a female vampire, sending her flying backwards into a concrete wall, momentarily stunning her. Faith head-butted the third vampire, breaking his nose. Blood rushed down his face from the injury and the dark Slayer thrust her stake deep into his chest, perfectly placed between the demon's ribs.

Buffy's vampire threw punches at the blonde's head, which she deftly blocked and dodged. She avoided an uppercut, and using the momentum from the vampire's attack, threw him face first into a wall. Faith turned toward her sister-Slayer just in time to see Buffy sinking her stake through the chest of the final vampire. He exploded into a cloud of dust around the wooden weapon before floating slowly to settle on the ground.

The female vampire launched herself onto the younger Slayer's back, wrapping her legs around the brunette's waist. Faith rolled forward throwing the vampire ahead of her and onto a wooden table that splintered upon impact. The Boston Slayer picked up a table leg and rammed it down through the chest of the female vampire who lay in shock on the floor.

With the final vampire defeated, the Boston girl brushed the vampire dust off her clothes. She suddenly felt Buffy's eyes on her form and glanced up to see the other Slayer staring at her wolfishly.

"So…your place or mine," Buffy asked, breathlessly.

"You read my mind, B," smiled the raven-haired Slayer.

FIN

30


End file.
